


Come Home To Safe Harbor

by Interrobang



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Strap-Ons, would it really be a beauyasha fic from me if there wasn't a LITTLE wing touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: “I just want— “ Yasha growled, frustrated. “I just want to have more control. I’ve had it taken from me so many times, and— and sometimes I just want to tie everyoneelseup for once.”“I mean.” Beau's brain paused, stuttering over the next thought. She placed a soft kiss on Yasha’s shoulder. “Not to, like, put dirty words in your mouth, but I could be into that. If you wanted to play that out.”
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 6
Kudos: 170





	Come Home To Safe Harbor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends I am but a single gay in this cold hard world. Girls hot. Tiddy soft. Etc etc.

Caleb’s tower was a thing of beauty. Its construction alone was so intricate and delicate that Beau couldn’t stand to think about how much effort and thought their squishy little wizard had put into it without feeling her heart jerk a little in her chest. Caleb must have worked on it for months, letting none of the details slip until the final reveal and it was— it was a little overwhelming, to be honest.

Especially appreciated was the fact that each member of the Nein had their own quarters to retreat to after a long day of travel. Sure, there was something to be said for the bunch of them sleeping like a pile of overgrown puppies in the dome, but it was very much a luxury to have a warm, soft bed to herself for a night. It was _definitely_ a pleasure to be able to wake in the night to use the bathroom without having to either step over another body or find a tree to squat behind.

There was, however, a kind of loneliness that came with sleeping alone. After a hard day of travel through rough terrain, sometimes Beau wanted a few minutes to herself, sure, but other times she felt desperately needy for human contact— craving the reassurance that her people were alive and safe.

And sometimes, in the dead of night, she missed being able to throw a hand out to find an ankle to grab or a shoulder to squeeze, to reassure herself that she hadn’t been abandoned.

She knew she wasn’t the only one that had these mixed feelings about their new sleeping arrangements. Not one of them, except maybe in some ways Jester, was used to anything this extravagant on a regular basis. So though the luxury of the tower never faded, the feelings around it changed and morphed as the weeks went on.

One night, after dinner and reading and taking care of prep for the next day, it was just Yasha and Beau left in the library, comfortable in pajamas and slippers, each with a cup of hot cocoa at hand while they relaxed. Beau’s had a splash of whiskey in it courtesy of Veth, and she was content to read quietly while the fire crackled away, Yasha and her silence a comfortable companion.

At last, though, Beau felt her eyes getting heavy with sleep. “This place is so nice,” she said sleepily, laying her book flat against her chest as she reclined in her chair lazily. She stretched her toes, warming her ankles by the fire, and yawned.

“I kind of miss the dome sometimes though,” Yasha admitted sheepishly, even as she lazily slouched in her chair, mostly empty cup of cocoa in her hands. “This is amazing but...I miss the company sometimes. My dreams aren’t always great.”

“Me too,” Beau admitted. She did not need to mention the one that had branded her, and her fears that ever sleeping again would impart more unwanted eyes. “But at least the tower is pretty secure, you know?”

There was a comfortable pause in which the fire crackled, its light sparkling off the metal fixtures and the stained glass windows like a midnight rainbow. Then: “Nobody said we had to stay in our own rooms,” Beau said, her thoughts turning lazily.

“Where else would you sleep? Here?” Yasha looked around the library, with its fine rugs and comfortable chairs circled in front of the fireplace. “I guess that would be nice.”

“I mean…” Beau hesitated. Why did she always hesitate over these things? She and Yasha had done so much together now. This should be easy. “That could be nice. But we could have a sleepover? In each other’s rooms,” she clarified quickly. “But maybe not with everyone crammed together. Maybe just the two of us.”

“Are you asking me to stay the night?” Yasha asked, grinny slyly. “That’s forward of you.”

Beau grinned back, feeling her cheeks darken as she leaned heavily on one hand and raised an eyebrow at Yasha. “If you’re up for it. My place or yours?”

They finished their cocoa and set aside their books, suddenly too excited to read any longer. They held hands as they floated down from the library to Yasha’s room, giggling and spinning each other around the central column until they touched down lightly in front of Yasha’s door.

Yasha’s room had been changed a bit since Caleb had first shown it off. Instead of the sparse cot Yasha had once had, there was now a proper bed in one corner to accompany the recliner by the hearth.

“I usually just sleep in the chair,” Yasha said somewhat sheepishly. “But you can take the bed?”

“You don’t mind?” Beau looked at the comfortable-looking bed: it was larger than the one in her room, though mostly in length. It wasn’t ornate— mostly just a wooden frame for a cushy mattress piled with hand-made quilts— but it looked very inviting.

“Not at all,” Yasha assured her.

They let the fire burn down to embers as they readied for bed. They’d already been in their nightclothes in the library, so all Beau had to do was kick off her slippers and slide under the soft quilts. She lay on her side for a long while as Yasha combed out her hair and settled into her chair, leaning back with a sigh and smoothing her blanket over her lap.

But Beau couldn’t sleep. She was too aware of Yasha not far away, sitting just as awkwardly awake in her recliner. It wasn’t the comforting kind of companionship Beau had longed for— they weren’t close enough for the magic of the puppy pile to be activated.

“This is weird, right?” Beau asked at last, breaking the dense silence of the dark.

Yasha’s face tilted towards her, barely visible in the dying firelight. The angle of her brows, in stark shadow from the flickering flames, showed dread.

“I just mean—” Beau sighed. “I want to sleep next to you. With you. C'mon, come snuggle,” Beau cajoled, making grabby hands at her. “I promise not to kick you in my sleep. Or at least to _try_ not to kick you.”

“What, no dream ninjas to fend off?”

“Listen…” Beau sputtered, flustered. “Get over here, nerd.”

It was deeply comfortable to lay in bed with Yasha. The other woman was so large, but in her bed clothes it was like laying with a big teddy bear. She was thick all over but softly curved, a good layer of padding over hard muscle. She was broad-shouldered, and her hips were wide, and her square waist was just the right size for Beau to throw an arm over her and cuddle up.

That was exactly what she needed to finally relax. Yasha was warm against her front, the rise and fall of her chest steady enough to keep time to. Beau let her forehead rest against Yasha’s shoulder blades, sharing the warmth and savoring the soft tent of the blankets pulled over their bodies, shielding them from the world outside and its worries.

Beau fell asleep like that, listening to the soft whoosh of Yasha’s breath, the crackle of embers smoldering in the grate a soothing undertone. She was warm; she was tired; she was safe. It was the most comfortable she’d felt in months.

But she woke not long later to Yasha squirming in her hold, her teeth audibly grinding.

“Yasha?” she whispered. “You good?” Beau started to pull away, to give her space, but Yasha, still asleep, grabbed the arm that was over her stomach and wouldn’t let go, a pained whine slithering from between her teeth. Beau attempted to soothe her, petting her back with her free hand— until with a flurry of celestial energy and light she suddenly had a mouthful of feathers. She coughed and sputtered and tried to get them out of her face before pulling back.

Yasha stuttered awake, ungracefully falling off the bed into a crouch. Her wings bobbed behind her, as shaky and ruffled as the aasimar herself.

“You okay?” Beau scrambled to her knees on the bed. “You looked terrified.”

“No, it was— it was a bad dream,” Yasha admitted shakily. Her eyes still darted around the room scanning for threats.

“We’re good, I promise,” Beau assured her. Her expression softened. “C’mere, let me comb those out for you.”

As she combed Yasha’s feathers, they talked.

“Does that happen often?”

“Mostly when I sleep alone,” Yasha said quietly. She sounded resigned. “I’d kind of hoped that wouldn’t happen while you were here.”

“Because I was _here_ , or because _I_ was here?” Beau asked carefully.

“Maybe a little of both?” Yasha said carefully. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” Beau insisted quietly. “You know I’ve done worse than— than get a few feathers in someone’s face.”

The wings vanished. Not stopping, Beau started to finger-comb Yasha’s hair as well, sweeping the half-tangled mess away from her sweaty face. The silver coming in at her hairline was gorgeous, pure as moonlight on snow. The soft movement and gentle contact seemed to soothe Yasha a bit. Beau kept going, rubbing Yasha’s back until her shoulders had relaxed entirely and her breathing was normal again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked at last, tucking her chin over Yasha’s shoulder and wrapping her arms around her waist.

“I don’t know,” Yasha said quietly. “It wasn’t anything specific. Just...a normal day. Doing normal things— travelling to some unspecified dream place, you know? Only it felt like someone else was piloting my body.”

“That sounds...unpleasant,” Beau said carefully.

“It shouldn’t have even been scary because nothing _scary_ was happening, except that I couldn’t make any decisions about how to move, or what to say, or where I was going. It was like being chained again.

“I just want— “ Yasha growled, frustrated. “I just want to have more control. I’ve had it taken from me so many times, and— and sometimes I just want to tie everyone _else_ up for once.”

“I mean.” Beau's brain paused, stuttering over the next thought. She placed a soft kiss on Yasha’s shoulder. “Not to, like, put dirty words in your mouth, but I could be into that. If you wanted to play that out.”

“You what?” Yasha turned, letting Beau catch the corner of her mouth with a kiss. “That’s— really?”

Beau shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. I can already kind of picture it,” Beau said, her grin turning dirty. “Me, tied up under you; you, taking your time taking what you want.” She pressed more kisses along Yasha’s shoulder, soft as honeysuckle and just as sweet. She tucked her chin over Yasha’s shoulder to murmur in her ear. “We wouldn’t even have to make it sexual if you don’t want to. We could just sit there, and you could read to me or something.” She smiled into Yasha’s neck. “You can’t hurt me— and I know you wouldn’t want to. Even if you do something by accident, I’m pretty durable.”

“I’m…” Yasha hesitated still, though her hand clutched at Beau’s over her waist, her breathing quick. At last she sighed, turning in Beau’s arms to wrap Beau in a hug. “Not tonight. But another time?”

“Oh, of course not tonight,” Beau said with a soft laugh. “We’re gonna plan this out _right._ Make it special.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I bet if we ask, Caleb could magic up some good shit for us.”

 _“You_ can ask him about that,” Yasha said, flushing. “I don’t think I could get the words out.”

Days passed. Beau managed to talk to Caleb, asking for a few interesting things to be waiting in the tower.

The next time the tower was put up, Beau could hardly wait to get Yasha alone. All through dinner she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her thigh to Yasha’s, stealing glances. She wasn’t very subtle about it, if Fjord’s gentle ribbing and Jester’s giggling was any indication, but who cared? They were safe here, and Yasha was going to like what Beau had planned.

At long last— meal done and strange glances from the others endured— Beau grabbed Yasha’s hand and led her to her door, floating them through into her quarters.

“Alright, where did he hide them…” Beau muttered, searching around the room. Her eyes landed on a new, tidy chest, humble wood but finely made, at the foot of her four-poster bed. She grinned. “Do you want to wash up? This might take a little time.”

Yasha undressed, wiping herself down with the soft cloths and steaming water that waited by the basin in the corner. Beau herself dug through the chest to see exactly what Caleb had conjured up for them. She grinned. This was more than what they needed. She’d have to get Caleb some _really_ fancy paper as thanks.

At last, things laid out, she sauntered up to Yasha and wrapped herself around her back, placing soft kisses along Yasha’s shoulders. Her skin was so smooth, even her scars strangely soft. The pale glow of it would have looked sickly on anyone else, but here in Beau’s room, mouth pressed to delicate skin, it reminded Beau more of moonglow than anything else. And she was warm, her chest rising and falling in hitched little breaths as Beau let her hands wander over drying skin, sliding her own callused hands over every curve she could reach.

“Ready?” Beau murmured at last, dragging her teeth over the curve of Yasha’s shoulder. She had to get up on her tip-toes to do it, but it was worth it, to see that pretty blush.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed. She turned, leaning down to press a kiss to Beau’s chest. “You’ll show me what to do?”

—

“Just so you know, I can get out of these at any time. It’s just cotton— I can rip this if I flex too much, so don’t worry about me being restrained. There’s no danger here,” Beau emphasized as she handed over a bundle of soft sky-blue rope. Beau watched Yasha run her fingers over the fine cords, feeling how soft they were.

She sat nude on the bed, slowly guiding Yasha through simple knots. A few were familiar— sailors knots, practical and quick— but others were more intricate, delicate and ornate and clearly just as much for show as for actual use.

At last, Beau walked Yasha through tying her up. Over the chest, over the folded arms, wrist secure. Legs folded, neatly trussed up heel to thigh, ropes only barely digging into firm muscle. Beau flexed slightly; the cotton creaked, but held.

“It’s okay?” Yasha asked, eyes darting over Beau’s face as if looking for any hint of disapproval.

“I’m great,” Beau said effusively, smiling giddily as she wriggled in her ropes. “I could probably get out if I really wanted to, but, you know, I don’t, so…” she grinned, gaze turning dark and sultry. “Go for it. I am at your disposal.”

Yasha was always so restrained— and maybe that was fear of her own strength, or fear of Beau’s, or fear of rejection, Beau wasn’t going to project for her— but Beau had made it abundantly clear that she did not need to be afraid tonight. And maybe it would take a bit of goading, but Beau was _excited_ to see what Yasha could do with the blinders off.

Yasha was tentative at first, her mismatched eyes roving over Beau’s body, skating back to her eyes a thousand times as he let her hands trace the lithe curves of Beau’s body. Her fingers drew over the soft cotton rope as if memorizing the patterns that trailed over Beau’s dark skin before digging under, to the firm muscles beneath.

Each touch made Beau shiver with the tension of holding still, of being _good_. Yasha’s hands were warm against her, the palms tough but light as they ran over her body. Beau’s eyes fluttered closed— and then she wrenched them open again, determined to catch every expression on Yasha’s face.

Yasha looked at her in wonder as she ran her hands over Beau’s waist, squeezing lightly, then slid her palms up to her small breasts. There Yasha leaned in, tweaking the gold bars that ran through Beau’s nipples slightly. She kissed Beau thoroughly, and ah, that’s what Beau loved most: Yasha’s full lips against hers, the press gentle as spring rain yet hungry as a growing storm. It always started slowly like this, Yasha taking her time. Beau was less patient— she nipped at Yasha’s lips, giggling against her mouth when it startled a huff of laughter from her partner.

“Impatient,” Yasha chided mock-seriously. “I thought I was supposed to lead?”

“You’re leading, but we can pick up the pace?” Beau suggested, wetting her bottom lip. The heat in her face was enormous, the radiant glow of it spreading down her chest. She took a deep breath to center herself, luxuriating in the press of the ropes against her skin, hindering even that expansion of her chest just slightly.

Yasha laughed and leaned back in, ducking down to press kisses against Beau’s jaw, her neck, the join of throat and shoulder. It was an area Beau gave up easily— and the trust of it was not lost on her or Yasha. It was already a desperately sensitive area, and Yasha _knew_ that, torturing Beau as much as she dared. Beau groaned as Yasha took her sweet time, sucking hard and long to raise welts along Beau’s collarbones, up the column of her throat. And still her hands wandered. When Yasha leaned back for just a minute, her eyes were hungry, taking in Beau below her like she was considering a feast, and where to start.

Beau swallowed thickly, sure she’d only get nonsense out if she tried to speak. Instead she let her legs fall open farther, testing her (very extensive) flexibility to invite Yasha to really lean down against her.

Yasha did so with an appreciative chuckle, running her hands down the curve of Beau’s waist and hip before slipping between her thighs. Here, too, the rope was taut, pushing into the meager fat around her groin and making the soft swell of her lips even more pronounced. Yasha seemed to inspect her for a moment, her eyes flashing bright as she considered what she wanted to do.

“You okay?” Beau asked when the silence stretched on for a bit. It was meant to be comforting, but it came out breathy and eager. She cleared her throat. “Anything you want, Yash?”

“I want a lot,” Yasha admitted. “Just…”

She scooted down the bed so she could lay on her front, her face between Beau’s thighs. With the arch of her back it was hard to see Yasha clearly, but then— _oh,_ Beau had a _brilliant_ idea.

“Yash,” she said, wiggling. “Pull that rope off to the side for me?” She pointed to the cord hanging from the ceiling to the side of the bed— the one Caleb had been so excited to show off the first time he’d presented the room to her.

Yasha did so, pulling the silken cord with a curious look. Beau grinned as, above them both, the mirror Caleb had put there just for her revealed itself. Now _that_ was a view, she thought with satisfaction. Not only should she see the top of Yasha’s beautiful head and her long fingers dragging over Beau’s hips, she could see _Yasha’s_ body as well, heart-shaped swell of her ass and all.

“That’s better,” Beau said smugly. “Okay, okay, we’re good.”

Yasha laughed and ducked down to press a kiss to Beau’s belly, just between where two cords criss-crossed over her hips. It made something squirm in her stomach, a swoop like she’d fallen from a great height— only to be caught in the warm, soft embrace of Yasha’s hands on her hips, her lips on the crease of thigh to groin.

Yasha was tender in almost everything she did. She had always been more patient than Beau in this regard. She seemed to want to savor every point of contact, as if unsure when she would get the opportunity again. Beau, on the other hand, was always urgent about it— they could be interrupted at any time, and why not enjoy the intensity of what she had now while she had it? But here, in this room, Yasha tempered that firework fuse. She took her time, kissing and nipping down the soft heat of her groin, dragging her fingers through the damp, fine brown curls. She parted Beau so easily, her fingers warm and callused and—

 _“Oh,”_ Beau sighed, throwing her head back as Yasha licked over her gently, tongue drawing slow, lazy circles around her clit. She heard Yasha sigh, pressing in harder. When Beau looked down Yasha’s eyes were closed, her eyebrows drawn up in exquisite concentration as she licked into Beau.

She sped up eventually, the luxuriant drag of tongue and lip getting hungrier, firmer, her pursed lips against Beau’s body more demanding, until Beau could barely restrain the moans and gasps. At some point fingers came into play, Yasha’s long harpist’s fingers pressing in slowly to massage at her inner walls.

It was torture of the highest caliber, exquisite in its sharpness, the slow build like a long fuse leading Beau into a drumming desperation as her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest. Each time she thought she was close to finishing, Yasha pulled back, petting her flank like an animal that needed to be soothed until Beau could breathe again. She pulled air in great lungfuls, willing herself to calm down, but still sweat beaded over her body, the long minutes drawing out into what felt like inscrutable hours.

At last, as Beau climbed one crest and felt just about ready to crash over it, Yasha _didn’t_ stop, pushing Beau to her limits as she sucked on Beau’s clit and drummed her fingers inside her, holding Beau still even as she attempted to buck against Yasha’s mouth. Beau had no leverage like this, could only hold on to rope as Yasha pushed and pushed and _pushed_ until Beau shouted as she came, body jerking uncontrollably as Yasha all but shoved her over her peak and then kept going.

Beau came back to herself dazedly, her eyes uncrossing as she stared at her flushed, sweaty body in the mirror above. Holy shit, that was definitely a look. She frowned. There was a spattering of—

“Holy crap,” Beau muttered hoarsely, heat immediately flooding her face. She tittered nervously as Yasha withdrew her fingers and idly wiped at her face, flicking away clear fluid where it had soaked her chin. “That’s— I haven’t ever—”

“That’s new,” Yasha remarked, inspecting her hands. “There was...a lot, wow.”

“Nope! Never done that before!” Beau all but squeaked again, wriggling in her ropes. “Let me out and I’ll, I’ll clean up or— “

“Oh, no,” Yasha said, her sweet tone and gentle smile belaying the look of a hunter on her face. “You stay where you are. I don’t think I’m done yet.”

Beau swallowed thickly, wishing she could wipe the sweat and drool off her face. Her heart beat rabbit-fast in her chest as Yasha climbed over her to reach for the other items of interest on the side table.

She came back holding the toy and harness Beau had very carefully requested from Caleb. (She tried not to think about how Caleb must have at least seen something similar to what she’d requested to include it in the tower.) Dark stone curved slightly in Yasha’s hand, polished to a shine. It fit easily into the leather-strapped harness that came with it. Yasha threw surreptitious glances at Beau, her mouth splitting into a cheerful grin when she saw how it affected Beau.

Beau squeezed her thighs together, already feeling the excitement build up again in her gut. She was so warm, already relaxed and wet and _fuck,_ that was going to feel amazing.

But better than the toy itself was the slight of Yasha slicking the toy with lube with one long-fingered hand, settling it further against herself just to make sure it sat right. The anticipation was— divine. Beau sucked in a deep breath, trying to regulate the way her heart smashing away in her chest. But it was difficult not to sigh heartily when Yasha so happily lay over her, the curtain of her silvering hair draping around them like a privacy curtain. She moaned when Yasha leaned down against her, broad torso pressed flush to Beau’s own, to kiss her squarely on the mouth.

Yasha often kissed softly. Not exactly tentatively— she was bold when she knew what she wanted, and that Beau wanted that exact same thing in return. But there was almost always an air of gentleness to her affections.

Not now. Beau moaned as Yasha bit at her lips and licked into her mouth, tongue petting tongue in a slick slide. Yasha tangled one hand in Beau’s hair, yanking it to tilt her head back before sucking more bruises into the side of Beau’s neck, each bright point of pain stark enough to make Beau’s head spin.

And Beau could do nothing about it— couldn’t press up against her, couldn’t reach out to pull her closer, couldn’t even wrap her legs around Yasha’s waist and dig her heel in to get her to fuck her. She could only lay there, trussed up like a roast ready to bake, and bask in the heat of Yasha’s body on hers.

She let out a sob when Yasha finally pressed into her, the cool stone of the toy hard and unforgiving against Beau’s walls. The press in was slow, Yasha still preoccupied by kissing Beau thoroughly.

But then she pulled back, biting her lip and tucking her hair out of the way, and got to work.

Yasha took her time. This, Beau had expected. Yasha’s gauge of pleasure was so much different than her own, a slow burn rather than a raging bonfire. Where Beau could come quickly and many times— and was happy to do so— Yasha preferred to take her time, climbing one intense peak for herself before finishing.

Yasha worked at her slowly, hips pumping evenly, circling and grinding as she looked over Beau’s form. Her fingers tugged at the ropes crossing Beau’s body, now damp with sweat. She pulled at the ones over her stomach, finger feeling out the intricate design of the knot over her breastbone. She squeezed one of Beau’s breasts as she thrust deeper, grinding their hips together with a sharp gasp.

“Yes, yes, please—” Beau gasped as she felt herself rise to another orgasm. She arched her head back, staring up at Yasha with all the adoration she could muster. Yasha’s eyes looked back, soft and yet hungry in their intensity. A bead of sweat worked down the side of her face, dripping to Beau’s stomach.

Beau’s eyes slammed shut as she came again, hips spasming as her cunt clenched around the hard shaft of the toy. It was— sublime, sharp, harder than the first one. And it didn’t stop— Yasha just kept going, thrusting into her over and over again, her hips circling as she bit her lip, sweat pouring down her body. And all Beau could do was take it and shake, body tense as a bowstring on the edge of snapping, every thrust of the toy inside her shaking a few brain cells loose.

Eventually she felt just like a ball of mush, body in a constant endorphin rush. Yasha all but mounted her, grinding against the toy until she cried out once— a sharp, quiet “Mmmph!”-- before withdrawing.

Beau’s eyes were barely able to focus on the shining wet toy left— it was warm now as it slapped against her thigh, hot from her own body, and wasn’t _that_ a thought.

Yasha undid the straps of her harness with trembling fingers before setting the thing aside.

“Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly as she knee-walked over to Beau at the head of the bed. “Let’s get you out of these.”

“Just cut ‘em off,” Beau slurred. “They’ll be here again next time.”

Yasha hesitated, but reached for a blade and carefully sliced the ropes off of Beau’s body. She then gently maneuvered Beau’s stiff limbs into a more comfortable position, massaging out any tension and checking her joints.

“Aw, don’t go,” Beau whined as Yasha climbed off the bed on shaky legs. But she was quickly back, holding a cup of water that Beau sipped from eagerly while Yasha wiped her down with a cool, damp cloth. At last, satisfied that Beau was okay, Yasha climbed back into the bed with Beau, wrapping around her easily.

They fell asleep like that, Yasha wrapped around her. But when Beau woke in the morning, it was to her own smaller body wrapped around Yasha’s larger one, clinging proprietarily to every inch of skin she could reach.

And no mouthful of feathers.

Beau grinned sleepily, pressing a few kisses to Yasha’s back. She’d protect Yasha as much as she could— and when she couldn’t protect her herself, she’d help Yasha feel strong enough to face her fears. They would never be completely safe— not with the kind of lives they led— but here, in this place, in the bubble of privacy they made for themselves, they could pretend for a bit that the only thing stopping them were their own self-imposed limits.

She supposed a bit of rope could be useful then, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I can also be found on Twitter as [@GoInterrobang!](twitter.com/GoInterrobang)


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